Duncan& Divinity

Duncan sat at the table. Mortals were panicking, and he could naught but sigh.

"You'd think evolution would tame that panic button. Alas," Duncan lamented.

His smartphone lit up, and he wandered over just as the smell of coffee filled their house.  

Just one quick look at his phone confirmed what he already knew. The global pantheon had begun to become concerned with this affliction. He had never been more grateful he'd been fully retired for centuries, and yet he was still on retainer. For the younger gods to advise and if need be train or if worse come to worse bring to heel. Or otherwise, reign in, curb the worst excesses of certain uppity young gods.

He'd do as he had always done help the mortals cross over. As he had done with the flu of 1912, as he had done with the black death of the 1340's. He had changed names and forms many times since then. 

Some gods had been involved, of course. But, human stupidity had always contributed to the largest part of humanity's woes.

"Yes, lets murder the one creature that was keeping the rat population in check." Duncan muttered as he turned his phone off. He'd been right then and washed his hands of the whole affair.

Yeah. He wasn't going to get involved but still.... He'd do pyschopomp work. It was easier for humans to have someone to guide them to the underworld. Rather than have them meander around until they managed to do it themselves. The world of the living wasn't... gentle to dead souls.

"Coffee?" Duncan relaxed at the sound of his spouse's half woke voice. Logan beamed in joy. His Jotunn. His goofy slippers squeaked as he made his way to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup.

"Just how I like it. Thank You!" Logan's smile. Duncan shivered with joy, and it had nothing to do with the subtle drop in temperature that followed Logan.

"Truly a drink of the gods." Logan exulted. Duncan stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry.

"Enjoy your pressed bean water."

Logan sleepily nodded and gulped it.

"I will." He said unperturbed. Duncan burst out laughing at his not quite awake husband. It rumbled in his chest, and Duncan had to wipe his eyes.

"By Kur, I love you," Duncan stated. Logan looked down at him with half-lidded eyes.

"I love you too." He pointed to his black zirconium ring. 

"See the proof! Even if you wreck me when we spar. That bruise still hurts."

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to kiss it better?"

Logan shook his head, vehemently.

"I'm still sore from last night." Duncan's eyes slitted.

"Did you enjoy it?" He asked. Logan nodded.

"I did-"

"Then walk it off." Duncan dismissed. Logan whined.

"Did you have to throw the javelin so hard?" 

Duncan responded tersely.

"Come now; I was holding back the last one I threw. It took the poor bastard one hundred and twenty years to die. His tomb lies at Brú na Bóinne!"

The coffee kicked in. Duncan could see its influence as Logan looked at him.

"I'm never going to beat you sparring, am I?" Duncan just smiled. A loud knock at the door interrupted Duncan's reply. Logan asked softly in wonder. "How many names have you had Duncan? Duncan chuckled and shook his finger chidingly.

"I'll tell you a name. Lean down so I may whisper a name into your ear. Logan leaned down, and Duncan took his time.

"Jötunheimr knows me. The river Ífingr that never freezes has never been a barrier to me. Know this, Logan. Do not ask for another. The Ironwood remains proud." Duncan stood on his tiptoes and clutched Logan's head. Duncan leaned in and oh so gently whispered a name into Logan's ear.

The frost giant shivered in fear.

"Good, you understand then." Duncan released his husband and went to answer the door.

Duncan opened the door.

"Oh good, one of the only two Olympians I can stand. Welcome to my hearth. Dearest Hestia." There in the front door was a plainly dressed greek aunt. 

"You're needed in Italy." Duncan sighed.

"I figured. Give me a moment." 

Duncan nodded and went to back to the kitchen. Logan had sat down and held his head in his hands.

Duncan grabbed his phone off the charger.

"I'm off on psychopomp duty. I'll be back as soon as I can, my love." Duncan took the coffee pot and refilled Logan's mug.

"It was.. You? How?! How did you manage that?" Logan asked.

Duncan sighed. This was why he didn't share his age or experiences openly.

"First and Foremost. Under no circumstances, panic. That's a great way to get yourself and others killed. I'm needed in the old world."

"Second, Do not horde hygienic products. That's an asshole-ish thing to do. Keep clean, shower regularly, and warm water and soap have never failed in the entire history of humanity."

"And lastly. This too will pass. I have seen outbreaks come and go and they all can be terrifying. When the courage of men fails. The beasts roam free and that my dear Logan is a horror of another kind completely unrelated to disease. I love you, Logan." Duncan replied softly and then he turned and left.

Logan shook off his stupor.

"Duncan wait-" Logan got up. You just couldn't drop one hell of a bomb like that and just leave. Duncan had kids.

Logan looked for Duncan's phone and it was gone. He paced there was no sign of his little husband. Logan looked out at the front door slightly ajar.

Duncan had left. Logan shut and locked the door. He texted a quick meassage.

"Be safe." Logan worried. For should that name ever be said where the aesir could hear. Shit would hit the fan.

"I love you." Logan texted. 

A heart emoji was the only reply.